


I'm Thinkin' We Should Ride

by FalseCamaro (Gandalfgirl579)



Series: Or The Highway [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Frottage, Grinding, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, OT5, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Prokopinsky, Public Blow Jobs, Sex on a Car, Sexual Content, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-10 13:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6987712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gandalfgirl579/pseuds/FalseCamaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were parts of a whole; Lynch was a separate entity. They belonged to each other; Lynch belonged to no one. </p><p>It was no wonder Kavinsky wanted him.</p><p>A collection of drabbles set in the Or The Highway universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Like a Lollipop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're an ass" A sharp yelp tore itself from his throat when K's hand came down hard on the meat of his ass, his hands scrabbling for purchase at Kavinsky's shoulders, fisting into the straps of his white tank.
> 
> "What was that about asses?" K's voice was a low, teasing whisper.

"What got you all fired up?"

 

Prokopenko's eyes, blown out to lust-dark perfection, rolled. "Stupid question." The words were muffled against the side of K's neck, lips brushing sensitive skin with each word, and he shivered when the hands at his hips tightened, strong and possessive.

 

"You never been jealous before," Kavinsky pointed out, turning to meet Proko's eyes as best he could.

 

"Never had any reason to be."

 

Kavinsky's brows lifted at that, and Proko's eyes rolled again. "What, the boys don't count?"

 

"'Course they don't."

 

Seated on the sofa opposite the one where Proko currently sat straddling Kavinsky's hips, Swan scoffed, playful as ever, "Thanks a lot!"

 

Over his shoulder, Prokopenko replied, "Y'know what I mean."

 

"Yeah, I do." Catching Kavinsky's eyes over Prokopenko's shoulder, Swan said, "We're parts of a whole. Lynch is a separate entity. We belong to each other; There was never any reason for Proko to be jealous 'til now."

 

"Well said," Skov murmured from his place on the floor, seated between Swan's spread legs. Swan patted his hair.

 

In the chair off to their right, his laptop balanced on his crossed legs, Jiang rolled his eyes and popped in his earbuds.

 

Prokopenko's eyes met Kavinsky's then, and he said, "Y'know he's right."

 

"Maybe." Kavinsky leaned in to brush his lips over Prokopenko's. "But who can resist a shiny new toy?" Proko's nose wrinkled at the comparison. "You see someone good-looking you've never fucked, you wanna fuck him. It's human nature."

 

" _I_ don't wanna fuck him."

 

"'Cause you're a bottom."

 

Proko's brow furrowed, and he looked almost indignant. A few of his freckles disappeared into the little crease between his eyebrows. It was strangely cute. "And you're _an ass_." A sharp yelp tore itself from his throat when K's hand came down hard on the meat of his ass, his hands scrabbling for purchase at Kavinsky's shoulders, fisting into the straps of his white tank.

 

"What was that about asses?" K's voice was a low, teasing whisper.

 

"I said--" Another smack, and Prokopenko gasped. Gathering himself, he tried again. "I said, you're--" Another slap had his hips rolling against Kavinsky's, his voice catching in his throat. "Goddamn it--" Prokopenko's voice was a harsh rasp, and he pinned K's shoulders to the sofa as best he could. " _Stop it_."

 

Kavinsky was, of course, unintimidated, both hands squeezing, rolling his hips up against Proko's. "Sassy li'l bitch tonight, aren'cha?"

 

Licking his lips and leaning in close, Prokopenko hissed, " _It's your fault_."

 

"That right?" It came with another smack.

 

"Yeah." It was half a sigh, and Kavinsky smirked when Prokopenko slid down and off him to kneel between his spread legs, hands at his inner thighs, warm and tempting. Their eyes met, and Proko breathed, "Lemme suck you off."

 

He sounded like a kid begging for a treat. Who was K to deny him? "Knock yourself out."

 

Prokopenko's eyes, hooded and lust-dark, locked with a darker pair as he undid the button and fly of Kavinsky's jeans, delving one slender hand inside to tug K's hard, thick cock into the open air.

 

There was a moment of deliberation, and Prokopenko ran that pink little tongue over his lips before his mouth engulfed the head of K's cock, his hands resting against trim, pale thighs, nails digging pink crescents into sensitive flesh.

 

He pressed a soft kiss to the underside, clawing at Kavinsky's thighs before wrapping his lips around the crown again. Then, in one smooth, practiced motion, he slid down, encasing the entirety of K's cock in tight, wet heat.

 

Kavinsky allowed one hand to slide into sandy hair then, rolling his hips up into that oh-so-talented mouth, loving the way Prokopenko shivered against him, those gorgeous, colorless eyes squeezed shut. His opposite arm was tossed carelessly over the back of the sofa, where Proko couldn't see it digging into the worn leather.

 

"You liking this?" Kavinsky's voice was low and rough, and between his thighs, he felt Proko shudder, pulling back to slip his tongue along the thick vein lining the underside of Kavinsky's cock. Of course he was enjoying it, K though. Proko was a grade-A cock-slut, one of that rare breed that got off on giving. He was a treasure, and Kavinsky glanced away lest his eyes give that little secret away. Over Proko's shoulder, he caught Swan's eyes.

 

Swan tossed him a warm, encouraging smile before his attention darted back down. Judging by the _thwack_ ing sounds coming from Skov's iPhone, he was watching Skov play a particularly unsuccessful game of Flappy Bird.

 

Between K's thighs, Prokopenko moaned, his right hand palming at the zipper of his own jeans, hips bucking into his own touch.

 

He was getting close.

 

He noted with some pride that it wasn't just him, and he redoubled his efforts.

 

The press of teeth against the base of his cock was enough for Kavinsky to jerk Proko's head back, those pale eyes wide, his smirk challenging, breath coming hot and hard, long eyelashes fluttering. He was gorgeous.

 

Keeping one hand tethered in sandy hair, Kavinsky wrapped the other around his cock, spurred on by the way Prokopenko nuzzled the skin along the inside of his wrist. The way his head turned had K's grip on his hair tightening. It was a sharp nip to the delta of veins beneath pale, delicate skin that spelled the end, and K jerked Prokopenko's head back, hot white spattering over the freckled skin of his throat and neck and shoulder, staining his ratty t-shirt. It was a good look on him, and across the room, Swan wolf-whistled.

 

"Shut up, Swan." Prokopenko's voice was a cocksucker's rasp.

 

Kavinsky's hand tightened in sandy hair, nails digging into his scalp, and Prokopenko pressed his forehead to a flushed thigh as he came into his hand, shuddering when he felt long fingers relaxing to stroke at the nape of his neck.

 

"Good boy." Prokopenko shivered at the huskiness of Kavinsky's voice, fingers massaging his jaw, smearing white into his skin. A sigh, and he crawled back up into Kavinsky's lap, curling into his side, his head tucked against K's shoulder. "How many cocks did you have to suck to get so good at it?"

 

"Just yours."

 

It was a blatant lie, and K smirked when Prokopenko's lips pressed to his, tasting of smoke and spunk. It was absolutely _filthy_ , and Kavinsky's spent cock gave a painful twitch against the backs of Prokopenko's thighs. When they parted, his lips brushing Proko's, K breathed, soft and sweet, " _Slut_."


	2. Start me Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On this side of Henrietta, the dark, abandoned part, Prokopenko could see the stars. They quaked and spun and multiplied every time Kavinsky pressed into him, grinding deep.

"You really want him to run with us?" Prokopenko's voice was soft, breathless, one hand scrabbling at the Maserati's hood, the other tangled into dark hair.

 

Kavinsky quirked an eyebrow at him, hands on his hips, holding him close. "You really _don't_ want him to?"

 

Prokopenko's eyes, colorless, pupils blown out, rolled. "Obviously not." It came just before a long, low moan, his back arching high, his hands darting down to grip K's wrists, his head tossed back against the shiny black paint of the Maserati's hood. He was, for an instant, grateful the racing crowds had dispersed and they could do this alone.

 

It was very, very late. The crowds were gone, the boys were gone, _Lynch_ was gone.

 

Prokopenko shivered, his eyes lifting to the endless blue-black of the sky.

 

On this side of the city, the dark, abandoned part, he could see the stars. They quaked and spun and multiplied every time Kavinsky pressed into him, grinding deep.

 

"What's your problem with him, anyway?" K emphasized the question with a rough thrust, and Proko's hips rolled down against him.

 

With considerable effort, Proko pulled his eyes from the stars in the sky, focusing instead on the fire blazing in Kavinsky's eyes, ferocious and insatiable. "He's an asshole," was all he could muster in his utterly fucked-out state,

 

"So am I."

 

Proko gave a breathless little scoff at that, just the slightest smirk gracing his lips.

 

K was quick to lean in and kiss it away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of a carry-on from chapter five of Or The Highway, though I suppose it can be read as a stand-alone one-shot, too, if that strikes your fancy.
> 
> The title comes from Rihanna's Shut Up and Drive. Also, it has a double meaning, and I love things like that. Plus that is just such a dream pack song. Imagine the boys getting baked and blasting it while they cruise around. It makes for a funny mental picture, in my opinion.

**Author's Note:**

> ...I just really wanted to continue the prokopinsky scene from chapter three of Or The Highway.
> 
> This piece can stand alone, of course, but you oughta go check out OTH if you enjoyed this. There's more of the Dream Pack there :) As for the title, well. I'm sure you guys get the reference, lol
> 
> Excited for more fics? Have constructive criticism or even just silly comments to add? Let me know! And as always, I must mention that I go by pr0ko on Tumblr, and I'm totally open to taking questions and comments and requests and prompts there! :) Hit me up!


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